


Game Over

by Dithemo



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18443627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dithemo/pseuds/Dithemo
Summary: End of Season 7. Winter is here, the Stark sisters are expecting Jon Snow and Daenerys Targayren to join them in Winterfell. The final battle is coming closer. Arya has a plan, but it can only be accomplished with Daenerys' help.





	Game Over

**Author's Note:**

> My short and concise (sort of) take on how I'd like season 8 to go

A cold wind was blowing over Winterfell, spreading even more snow across the land. The Stark sisters stood on the ramparts, as they did every morning, overlooking the soldiers bustling below, busy in their preparations for the final battle.

“They should be less than a day’s march away by now,” Arya spoke quietly, without taking her eyes off the people below them.

“Should be…” Sansa responded, mirroring the calmness of her sister.

A few moments of silence passed between them, but before long the former assassin dropped the act and groaned.

“I can’t believe Jon bent the knee to her! What was he thinking?!”

She looked over at Sansa, only to find a small smile on the young woman’s face, as if she had been waiting all morning for this exclamation.

“Ugh!”, Arya rolled her eyes and brought her hand to the bridge of her nose, trying to pinch the annoyance she felt away. “I know, I know, ‘he did what he thought was best’ and ‘this could have been the only way to save us’ and-“

“If you already know, why are you still going on about it?” Sansa wondered, the amused look still on her face.

She wanted to press the matter, but the younger woman knew there was no point, so she simply smiled back at her sister.

“Fine, I’ll drop it, done deeds and all that… But you know I’m right about one thing, Sansa. The North won’t stand for this…”

The other woman’s smile faded away at her words, but a look of determination quickly replaced it. “If the North sees the two of us, true-born Starks, bow to Queen Daenerys Targaryen, they will follow. Despite everything, their loyalties still lie with our family.”

“ _If we bow…_ ” Arya softly mumbled, her eyes going hard as she looked out across the field again, but Sansa caught her words.

“Arya…” Even without looking at her sister, Arya could hear her frown. The other woman paused for a moment, then sighed. “I can’t force you to bow, no more than I can force you to believe that Jon did the right thing. Perhaps you’re right and the Targaryen is not to be trusted…. Perhaps she’s the only hope we have. Will you truly risk losing the latter in the war to come, simply because you fear the first?”

Hard grey eyes met determined blue ones at the last words, but before the Faceless Man could respond, another voice interrupted.

“Myladies,” Brienne said, a serious look on her face that overshadowed her also obvious nervousness for interrupting them. “Pardon the intrusion, but the Mormont soldiers are inquiring about extra armor and a place to practice their archery…”

Arya nodded, her face a mask again. “I’ll go see Lyanna at once, thank you Brienne.”

As she moved away, Sansa was clearly wary about the early end to their conversation, but the warrior woman continued.

“Also, Lady Sansa, we’ve had word that the healers are expecting a number of shortages, especially when it comes to bandages…”

The older Stark sister sighed, but also nodded.

“Lead the way, Brienne…”

* * *

 

Arya had been so focused on checking old swords and armor that she almost missed it, but when a loud growl finally scared everyone around her, she quickly looked up to see the magnificent black dragon flying overhead.

As if it were a dream she chased it with her eyes, mesmerized at its size, at the dark scales, the movement of its wings…. The smile didn’t leave her face, until she finally focused on the large group that followed the animal.

From her spot on the wall she could see miles of soldiers, both on foot and on horseback, and at the front bright grey hair she had only heard about in stories, and a messy black head she knew could only belong to her brother.

By the time the girl made it back to the castle, where her brother and sister were already lined up, the troop had already arrived and the woman she knew had to be the Mother of Dragons was already – very gracefully, she noticed – getting off her horse.

Sansa threw her a pointed look, which she ignored, before watching their guests seriously, and Bran had that mysterious smile on his face, as always looking as though he knew the answers to every question no one had ever asked or would ever think to ask.

When Arya looked ahead of her, she saw a very confident look on the Queen’s face, and a very conflicted one on Jon’s.

She could recognize joy at being home, at seeing his brother and sisters again, but also nervousness because of his actions, and fear because of their reactions.

The former assassin, for her part, kept him guessing for her reaction.

“Before you stands Queen Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons,” a tall, dark woman spoke the words, and while she spoke the Queen had moved forward, Jon right behind her, until she stood in front of the Stark siblings.

_She’s small, but also very large…_ Arya thought, appraising the woman as she stood before them. _Beautiful, obviously, young, but also powerful…_

A heavy silence fell after the woman’s words. The young wolf could feel her sister watching her anxiously, but aside from that she could feel the entire North watching her. All men and women around them, lords and ladies of Houses that had sworn loyalty to the Starks, to the King in the North, waiting for their reaction.

Waiting to see how they themselves should react.

Without even the slightest change in expression, Arya bowed down on one knee.

The moment she did so, she could feel her sister follow, and from the corner of her eye she could see that every single person around them quickly followed their lead – exactly as Sansa had predicted.

Arya looked up at the Targaryen, expecting to see a smug look on her face. When grey eyes met bright violet ones, though, she saw instead a sense of both relief and determination.

Smiling to herself, the young wolf spoke.

“The North is yours, Your Grace.”

* * *

 

“I understand, brot- Jon, but they left us no choice. We need those rations for the war to come.”

Daenerys followed behind Sansa and Jon, listening to their conversation about the logistics of Winterfell, wincing when she heard how the young woman now avoided to use the word ‘brother’.

Bran had told them everything quickly after they arrived. To say she was shocked was an understatement.

The Stark siblings had been shocked too, she knew, although you never would have guessed it looking at the younger one.

They had been at Winterfell for over two weeks now, and the Queen still wasn’t able to understand Arya Stark. She tended to look unnaturally calm in every meeting, in every (short) conversation they’d had thus far, but her eyes often spoke a completely different tale.

Those grey eyes spoke of darkness, of anger, of loss, but very occasionally also of joy.

She knew she wasn’t the only one who had trouble understanding the young woman, though. When Daenerys had spoken to Jon about it – their initial ‘love’ with time and the news of their kinship evolved into a strong friendship – she gathered that he had the same problem.

For him it was even worse: the sister he had known as a child was gone, and in her place was now a grown woman who wore her face, but who had lived a life he knew nothing about.

“- and what about the men?” At Jon’s words the Queen attempted to bring her mind back to the matters at hand. “I hear many young men from the North have joined, farmers and merchants, none trained with the sword…”

She could see the older Stark sister nod, and stop in the cold hallway, overlooking the terrain. “Their training has already begun, Jon, Arya tries to help them out every day.”

Sansa pointed at the people below them, and now that she followed her gaze Daenerys could see the young wolf among them, her hands behind her back, that same calm look on her face as she gave clear instructions to the new recruits.

To Daenerys, the girl seemed to be doing rather well. Even her Dothraki had stopped to watch the group of trainees. To her left, however, she could hear Jon’s conflicted sigh.

“Sansa…”

“I know, Jon,” the woman quickly interrupted, “I know you want to know about her, but the little I know about the life Arya has led after our father died – and trust me, I barely know a thing – is not for me to tell you. When the time is right, I’m sure she will tell us. But for now, we need to trust her, and trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

Jon shook his head, “I trust her, I do… I can see from here that she knows what she’s doing, I just wish I knew…”

“I know, Jon.”

Daenerys recognized the same pain in her eyes she knew was in Jon’s, but despite her own curiosity she agreed with the oldest Stark sister.

It was not her place to tell Arya’s secrets.

She smiled at the woman, but before the Queen could speak, Jon gasped, moving closer to the railing.

“Seven hells,” he said, and Daenerys quickly understood why.

One of her Dothraki had clearly had enough of listening to some _girl_ commenting on fighting styles -  with her hands behind her back, even – and now felt the need to challenge her.

Although it was clear the girl didn’t speak a word of Dothraki, his meaning was very clear to her and she quickly nodded, unsheathing her sword.

“I have to stop this,” Jon spoke worriedly, but before he could move he was stopped by Sansa’s hand on his shoulder.

“No, you have to see this…”, she said, looking down again.

At this point, Daenerys found it hard to keep quiet. “Lady Sansa, are you certain? My Dothraki are formidable fighters, and when they fight it is often lethal…”

The other woman did not match her worry though, and simply gave a soft smile.

“If the two of you wish to understand a bit more about Arya, I believe now is a good time to start.”

So Daenerys set aside her worry and joined Jon at the railing, the two of them anxiously watching.

Below them, the Dothraki was shouting words she couldn’t understand at her, but Arya simply smiled.

Her sword behind her back she waited until the man was finally done bragging about the size of his dick – or whatever he was doing – and was ready to attack her.

The former assassin could tell she had an audience, she knew her siblings and the Queen were watching upstairs, their nervousness even palpable down here.

From the corner of her eye she could see the smithy, and her old friend Gendry, whom she’d been teaching a bit of sword fighting since he’d arrived at Winterfell.

And behind the Dothraki she could see her old travelling companion Sandor Clegane, as always a look on his face as if he didn’t believe the small sword she had could do any harm.

Lost in thought, she almost missed the first attack of the Dothraki, but even with her distractedness she dodged his blow easily.

Although Arya was not one to brag, the idea that her brother, and the Hound, and Gendry – and even the beautiful Targaryen Queen – could see what she was made of did excite her quite a bit.

Another grunt from the man indicated his next attack, which Arya sidestepped easily, quickly nicking the man’s chest with her sword as she did so.

The blood welling up from the wound didn’t stop the Dothraki, though, he continued attacking her more and more fiercely, each heavy swing of his darakh followed by an even heavier one.

The young wolf continued her game, though, dodging and sidestepping all of his blows and slightly cutting the skin every time she did so.

From above them, Daenerys could only look on impressed as one of her warriors was bested by this small woman.

The Queen was mesmerized by the young Stark’s fighting, the way she moved like water, the wolfish grin on her face and the excitement in her dark eyes.

She could tell the Dothraki was no match for her, could tell so from the second they had begun the fight. With each miss he made he became more angry, but the young wolf remained calm with every blow.

Every swing of the man’s sword was only inches from killing her, but the girl remained calm, the grin always plastered on her face.

Finally, the young Stark had enough. She swung her legs around the warrior’s, working him to the ground and quickly towering over him, her Needle firmly planted on his neck.

The surprise and anger on his face remained for a few more moments, but then he laughed hard and loud, a laugh that was quickly mirrored by his fellow Dothraki around them.

“ _This one fights well! She is no girl, she’s a wolf!_ ”

Daenerys smiled at the words, and was glad to see her Dothraki clasping the hand of the young woman, a clear newfound sense of respect between them.

“That was… She’s…” Jon was clearly in shock, but the Queen could not follow his conflicted feelings right now.

“Come, Jon, let us go down and congratulate your sister. She fought well, beating my Dothraki is no easy feat.”

Before he could respond she quickly moved down the stairs, eager to meet with the girl.

When they came face to face, the Stark girl was still smiling, her eyes glinting with an excitement the Queen had not yet seen in her.

Daenerys mirrored her smile and moved closer, but before she could speak the young wolf’s smile turned into a frown, and she felt herself being pushed aside.

Looking around in shock, she saw that Arya had pulled her dagger and was now pushing it into the neck of a hooded figure.

“Arya, what is happening?”

The girl didn’t respond, however, and simply pulled back the man’s hood.

Daenerys frowned when she recognized him. “Jaime Lannister? How- What are you doing here?”

The man looked aptly afraid of the small woman holding the Valyrian steel dagger against his neck, his eyes anxiously shifting between the killer and the Queen.

“Your Grace,” he started as calmly as he could, putting his hands up slowly in surrender, “I mean you no harm, I swear…”

Arya huffed, pushing her dagger harder against the man’s throat.

“Arya!” The assassin closed her eyes in annoyance when she heard Jon’s voice behind her. “What are you doing? Release him!”

She regarded the Lannister coolly, and began to release her hold on him, only to sidestep him the moment he relaxed, twisting his good hand behind his back and effectively pushing him down to his knees. She stood behind him, the dagger still loosely held against his neck, her other hand a tight grip on the man’s bent-close-to-snapping arm.

Her new position allowed her to see the shock and anger on her sibling’s and the Queen’s faces, but the former assassin herself kept her face schooled.

“Ar-Arya!” Jon stammered, unsure of what to do now his sister completely disregarded his commands, but not wanting to risk trying to unhand their ally himself, lest his sister actually killed him.

“I told you, Arya, the Lannisters are our allies in the war against the White Walker! His sister gave us her word!”

The girl rolled her eyes at her once-brother’s naivety, same as she had when Jon and the Queen had told them about their ‘alliance’.

“And I told _you,_ Jon, you need to stop being so _fucking_ naïve! Cersei Lannister’s word is worth shit! Why else would her brother have snuck into our holdfast the way he did!”

She could see her words brought out even more anger in the man, but before he could talk Jaime quickly interrupted.

“Don’t!” the Lannister said, bowing his head in shame and regret, “Don’t try to defend us, Lord Snow, your sister is right…”

The last words were spoken very softly, but he might as well have shouted them with the way they elicited a shockwave of worried gasps from the onlookers.

“You… What?” – “What are you saying, Lord Lannister?”

Jon’s shocked stammers were overpowered by the question of the angry dragon, who now quickly moved closer to the man and Arya.

Arya looked at the Queen with a newfound appreciation when she came closer, eyes full of fire, but quickly turned her attention back to the man below her when she felt his heartbeat rise in fear.

Jaime looked down once more, before shaking his head. “It was a trick, Your Grace. I didn’t…” He paused, apparently trying to get a grip on his anxious thoughts. “When you left, I truly thought she had meant it… I was already making preparations, thinking of which soldiers to leave behind, what supplies to bring, but Cersei…”

Daenerys looked down on him, a seething anger in her eyes. “She never wanted to help us. She saw what we are up against, she saw the White Walker, she knows all of the Seven Kingdoms are at risk… And yet she still intends to play her game?”

She still looked incredulous, like the things she said were simply impossible, as though she expected him to deny it, because no good ruler could possibly be that moronic.

Instead, though, he nodded. “My sister intends to wait either for those things to take care of you, or for them to thin you out enough that she can attack your weakened armies the moment your war ends.”

A stunned silence fell over the crowd, which was only broken a few tense moment later, when Arya released the man and sheathed her dagger once more.

She locked eyes with distraught violet ones, and could tell the news had shocked the Queen more than she wanted to show.

So Arya gave her a soft smile, in an attempt to convey hope to the woman all around them looked up to. When Daenerys finally registered her, she smiled back, and the young wolf was happy to see her eyes get back some of their determination.

“Very well then, “ the Queen spoke, loud enough for everyone to hear, her head held high to make sure all people around them saw that she did not despair. “Time for plan B.”

* * *

 

When they all went back to the war room, though, things were not so calm.

Tyrion, although happy to see his brother again, was torn about their sister’s latest betrayal. Apparently he, too, had thought Cersei had finally seen reason.

Still, though, he wanted to believe that even without the Southern armies they could take on the Night King and the White Walkers, but Bran quickly shot down that plan with his latest update on the numbers of Walkers the army now held.

This remark brought on a response from Tormund wondering why he could see all that, but not a solution to their problems, which brought on an angry response’s from Jon telling him to back off from his brother, which led to Tyrion commenting on them not actually being brothers, which eventually led to a heated discussion that included all parties shouting at one another.

Arya kept herself to the side, though, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, a pensive look on her face.

Daenerys had become fed up with the screaming match and was now trying to calm herself by taking deep breaths, when she began watching the girl.

Her calm demeanour, those serious grey eyes, her lithe body that was apparently able to best even one of her own Dothraki.

The Queen was intrigued by the young wolf. She had learned a lot more about the girl in those few hours, from watching her fight to now, but the more she saw of her, the more questions were raised inside her head, the more mysterious the girl seemed.

“ENOUGH!” Jon had raised his voice, getting silence from everyone and causing Daenerys to forgo her thoughts of Arya and focus on the discussion again. “This discussion is pointless! If we want any chance to win we need Cersei Lannister, no matter how hopeful you might want to be!”

A heavy silence followed his words, but it was quickly broken by a soft voice.

“We don’t need _Cersei_ ,” Arya said, her face unreadable as she stepped closer to the war table. “We just need her armies.”

The former assassin looked around the table. Most around her seemed puzzled, Jon looked utterly exasperated, but she could see a flicker of recognition in her sister’s eyes.

“Yes, Arya, you’re right,” Jon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but we can’t have simply get those. Even killing her right now wouldn’t solve the problem, by the time the Southerners accept Daenerys as their queen the White Walkers will have already overrun all of Westeros!”

Arya nodded, serious, although there was a ghost of a smile on her face. “You’re right, Jon, we need Cersei if we want to get her armies… The only way we can get their support is if she remains firmly in charge.”

Looking around the table, the girl now knew her sister understood what she was talking about, but the rest of them just took her words as another confirmation that this war could never be won.

“Your Grace,” Arya said, interrupting the tense silence once more.

Daenerys looked up, a quizzical frown on her face.

“How long does it take for one of your dragons to fly south?”

* * *

 

The full moon was shining brightly over Winterfell, illuminating the snowy landscape in an eerie light.

Arya was leaning over the ramparts, looking out over the hundreds of tents that now surrounded her home.

_Soldiers as far as the eye can see_ , she thought, watching the small figures huddled by the fires below her, _thousands of men that might all be dead in a matter of weeks…_

“Trouble sleeping, Arya Stark?”

She was jolted from her thoughts when the Queen joined her and leaned over as well, their arms touching as they now both were leaning on the ramparts.

Arya looked to her side for a moment to see the woman’s light hairs and eyes illuminated by the moonlight. She ignored the way her heart slightly skipped a beat at the sight of the stunning woman, and focused on the sight ahead of her again.

“I could say the same to you, Your Grace.”

When she said the words the girl knew she was being too short with the woman, and when she heard a sigh coming from her right she knew the other woman had noticed her annoyance as well.

“You’re angry with me… Because I wouldn’t agree to flying you south on one of my dragons?”

Arya closed her eyes for a moment, but didn’t look at the Queen. The older woman wouldn’t have it, though, and grasped the girl’s wrist gently but firmly to get her attention. “I’m sorry, Arya, but if you won’t give us an explanation as to why you’d want to do that-“

“Because your dragons are much faster than any horse or boat, Your Grace,” Arya said lightly, half-grinning as she looked at Daenerys.

The grey-haired woman rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help a smile from growing on her face. “I meant why you insist on going south, and you know that.”

The young wolf sighed, but smiled and nodded. “I know. And I’m not angry at you, Your Grace. If I were you, I probably wouldn’t agree to doing such a thing without knowing why either.”

The Queen frowned, moving her hand from the girl’s wrist to her bicep. “Then why not tell us? If you have a plan that could help, we would all like to know, _I_ would like to know! Perhaps some of us could be of assistance, or-“

Arya, though a bit uncomfortable because of  it, covered the hand that now rested on her arm with her own. “I would, Your Grace, but in this world, plans have a tendency to be picked up by little birds, and spiders, and ravens and whatnot the moment they are spoken. And what I mean to do will fail the moment any of the wrong people know about it.”

Daenerys looked deep into those grey eyes, trying to find any clue as to what the girl was planning.

When instead she only risked to drown in them, the Queen sighed.

“Very well then, Arya,” she said, bringing her face impossibly close to other woman’s, “just tell me one thing: do you truly believe this plan is our best chance at winning this war?”

Daenerys could see the determination and truth in her eyes before the young wolf had even spoken.

“I do, Your Grace.”

* * *

 

“Are you sure about this, Arya?”

Arya turned around to face her worried sister and smiled. She could understand the girl’s concern; the Starks did not have a good history with going south, and flying there on a dragon was entirely risky.

On top of that, Sansa was the only one to even have an inkling of an idea of what the former Faceless Man intended to do.

“It’s our only chance, Sansa.” She said, smiling kindly.

She could tell that her older sister was still worried from the way her eyes fluttered over to the black dragon.

They were at the edge of the woods, far away from prying eyes, with only her siblings waiting to say goodbye to her, and Tyrion and Missandei to make sure Daenerys would be okay.

The Queen and her following were standing by the dragon now – or at least the Targaryen was standing by them, the other two were a few paces away – waiting for Arya to say her goodbyes, as they would probably be for a much longer time – if they ever saw each other again.

Sansa swallowed drily, but nodded, and quickly engulfed her younger sister in a big hug.

This time, Arya didn’t hesitate to hug her back.

“Be safe, Ar…”

“You too, San…”

The younger woman could see tears in her sister’s eyes as she stepped back, but didn’t get a chance to comment as the tall woman was quickly replaced.

Jon hugged her fiercely, in a way they hadn’t since they were children.

For a moment Arya was shocked at the heavy feeling that overcame her, but she shook it off and clasped her arms around him just as tight.

“I can’t say I fully understand what is happening, little sister…” he whispered, and Arya felt emotional when she heard him call her that, like he used to, regardless whether they were actually siblings or not, “one day I hope you will tell me of the life you lived, and I hope I will find out what your plan actually is, but I trust you. Whatever it is you intend to do, I trust you.”

Arya felt emotion swell up in her throat at his words, but she sniffed and pushed it down. As they let go of each other, she grinned wolfishly. “After the war, when all this is over, we’ll have a nice keg of ale and a chat.”

Jon gave a short laugh at that, and nodded. “ _Aye_ … When all this is over, I’ll keep you to it…”

He put his hand on her cheek. “Be safe, little sister.

Arya nodded. “You too, brother.”

* * *

 

“Are you alright back there? You’ve been awfully quiet…”

Arya was shaken out of her thoughts by the Queen’s voice.

They had taken to the sky a few hours earlier, and from the moment she had joined Daenerys on Drogon’s back, the girl had been over the moon with joy.

The powerful animal moving below her, the wind on her face, how fast they were going, the way the world looked so tiny below them, the heat of the gorgeous woman she was holding onto – she felt invincible, like she was king of the world.

_If the God of Death told me today was the day – I could die happy right now…_

When the Stark remained silent, though, a worried Daenerys turned around to see her face, only to be surprised by the joy on the girl’s otherwise so closed-off face.

The older woman smiled right back at her, mirroring her excitement.

“Is this everything you’ve ever dreamed it would be, Arya Stark?”

The girl chuckled. “Everything and more.”

She had told the Queen how she had always dreamed of dragons, seeing one, touching one, flying one… The Mother of Dragons had been sceptical about that enthusiasm, since most people usually lost it once they actually were close to one of her children, but to her surprise this wolf girl had only become more excited the closer she got to them.

It was endearing in a way Daenerys hadn’t expected from the younger woman.

Seeing her now, she suddenly looked much younger – or better yet, her own age – with an excitement in her eyes that belied the rough life she had clearly known.

She stared at the young wolf, mesmerized, trying to absorb every detail of her smile, the glint in her eyes, the small dimples in her cheeks,… and commit them all to memory, adding the moment to other details she had memorized, of the girl’s swift moves, fiery eyes and taut muscles in battle.

“… Your Grace?”

Daenerys was shocked out of her stupor when the subject of her thoughts suddenly touched her shoulder.

Blushing, the Queen tried to compose herself again. “I’m sorry, Arya, what did you say?”

The girl frowned, a small grin growing on her face at her companion’s awkward response, but she didn’t mention it and simply repeated her question.

“I said this is far enough, you can drop me off right here.”

Daenerys looked around. She wasn’t certain where exactly they were. It  felt a lot warmer than Winterfell had been, but the nearest village was somewhere in the distance, and she didn’t recognize the landscape at all.

She assumed Arya must have an idea of where they were, though, so she simply nodded and brought Drogon down to the ground, carefully checking that there was no-one around.

When they landed, the two woman got off and Arya took a moment to say goodbye to Drogon first.

She caressed his face, a wistful smile on hers as she did so.

“Thanks, Drogon, I will never forget this.”

The girl touched the dragon’s head for a few more moments, before turning to the Queen.

“And thank you, of course, Your Grace, for allowing me to fly with you, and for trusting me to bring me all the way south…”

When she looked at the young Stark standing in front of her dragon, Daenerys suddenly felt a rush of emotion well up inside her.

She tried to push it down, though.

“Daenerys…” she said, surprising the girl, “Please, Arya, call me Daenerys.”

Arya was a bit confused at the words, but even more confused by the feeling inside her chest when she heard them.

“Alright,… thank you, Daenerys.”

There was an moment of awkward silence between them, where clearly neither woman knew what to do, but then the Queen moved forward, engulfing the younger woman in a hug.

Despite her shock, Arya’s body immediately responded by hugging her back.

“I’m sorry, Arya, I couldn’t help it… I don’t know what will happen to you from here on out, and I’ll be going to war and… This might be the last time we see each other…”

The Stark girl hugged her even tighter at the words, breathing in the other woman’s scent for what could be the last time.

Arya sighed. “It might be,” she said, before letting go, grey eyes locking with violet ones, “but I hope it won’t… I truly wish to see you again, Daenerys.”

The Queen smiled at the words, both sadness and joy incited in her heart.

“If the gods will it so, we will, Arya.”

To Daenerys’ surprise, though the former assassin shook her head at that.

“There is only one god, Daenerys, and his name is Death. And you know what we say to the God of Death?”

When Arya’s words were met with a frown, she continued, putting her hand on the older woman’s shoulder as she leaned closer to her to whisper in her ear.

“Not today.”

And with those words, the Stark girl let go of Daenerys and started walking away, leaving the Queen with a fast-beating heart and the lingering feeling of Arya’s breath on her neck.

* * *

 

The hallway to the Cersei Lannister’s chambers was busy, as usual, and Arya’s patience was wearing thin.

It had taken her some time to find (and steal) a horse after the Queen had dropped her off, and by the time she had made it to the city a week had passed since she had left Winterfell.

Getting into the Red Keep had, fortunately, not been a problem; she still had the memory of a young girl chasing cats down hallways and basements that eventually led into the sea.

Still, she was now more than another week further, without any knowledge of what was happening up North, and she still had not had a safe chance.

_Patience_ , she thought as she walked down the hallway, a jug of wine firmly in hand, and tried to remember  the lessons of the House of Black and White.

Despite her anxiousness about her family and Daenerys – the people she cared about – she knew she could not rush this.

Failure to cross this particular name off her list was not an option.

Then again, if she only wanted to kill Cersei, it would already have been done.

She could have killed her in a second and been gone from the castle in the next, without breaking a sweat.

But for the plan she had in mind, she needed the Lannister to be alone, unguarded by the Mountain or any of the other fools that surrounded her, unattended to by any servant.

The latter one Arya had covered; the moment she had entered the Red Keep she’d gone straight for the servants’ quarters, put on a face she had once used as winebearer at the Frey’s, and joined in on the routine the Lannister Queen’s winebearers had.

And since none of the servants enjoyed being near their Queen – she had a tendency of losing her temper – and since the wolf girl always carried the largest bottle, she had quickly begun being the only one on wine duty.

The guards wouldn’t be too difficult either, if Arya could get her timing right; there was usually some time in the evening when Cersei Lannister decided she couldn’t bear the sight of their uniforms anymore (too much of a reminder of the brother that had left her) and ushered them out.

That left the Faceless Man with one final obstacle: the Mountain.

Always there, a silent but deadly statue by the Queen’s side.

For days Arya watched and waited, hoping to figure out a way to remove the giant guard without compromising her plan.

So she followed her daily routine, waiting for her chance to pounce.

“Another bottle, Rina?” one of the guards asked as she approached, the disapproval clear in his voice.

“Another bottle, ser,” Arya answered, loud enough for the Lannister to hear, knowing by now how it would set her off, “At the Queen’s request.”

She could see the Lannister through the doorway, as always sitting at her table, and even though the woman had her back to them she could tell she was annoyed.

Before the man could respond, Cersei’s frustrated voice rang out from inside the room.

“Let her in, you bloody oaf! And take your leave! The both of you! I have no more need for you today!”

Arya passed the two men, a hidden smile on her face as they walked away, shaking their heads.

_That’s one._

She quickly entered the room, ignoring the Mountain’s menacing form, and filled up the Queen’s cup, before sinking back against the wall, waiting for the cup to be empty again.

Watching and waiting.

After two more refills, Cersei Lannister had become quite gloomy, and very close to falling asleep.

Arya was ready to call this another lost day, when suddenly Maester Qyburn entered.

“Your Grace,” he said, in that slimy voice of his, “I apologize to disturb you so late, but I wanted to talk to you about-“

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Cersei answered, taking another swig of her wine, “because I have no desire to talk to _you_.”

If Qyburn was surprised by his Queen’s words he did not show it, Arya noticed.

He merely bowed.

“Of course, Your Grace, I shall not bore you with technicalities tonight. I was, however, hoping if you could lend me your guard for a moment. I-“

“Fine, take him,” the Queen said, waving him away, “I’m sick of looking on his dead face.” She looked up, squinting at the Maester, “and yours, for that matter. Just go!”

The man did frown at this, but knew better than to argue, so he quickly bowed.

Arya, for her part, could not believe her luck.

Quietly, she put down the wine and snuck over to the door, to check the hallway.

There was no one in sight, no guards, no servants.

Her heart beating loudly in her chest, she silently closed and locked the door.

When she turned around, the Queen had her cup raised, so the girl swiftly grabbed the wine and moved over to the table.

After filling the cup to the brim, Arya stayed next to the woman, watching her as she downed it.

“Is it good?” she asked, forgoing her winebearer-persona.

The Lannister arched an eyebrow, surprised at the insolence of her question, but huffed regardless.

“No,” she said, putting down her cup, “Dornish _piss_ is what it tastes like.”

The assassin smiled her wolfish  grin.

“That’s unfortunate,” she said, putting down the jug.

The frown on the Queen’s face grew.

“What is?”

Arya smiled, walking around the older woman, searching the hidden space in her dress.

“That the wine was bad,” she answered sweetly, still smiling as she stood in front of the woman, “I had intended to give you this cup of wine as a final courtesy… The last cup of wine you’ll ever have…”

She saw realization dawn in the Queen’s eyes, but as the woman began to stand up Arya pushed her down again roughly, and quickly pulled out Needle, pushing it through the woman’s thigh into the chair, so she could no longer move.

A scream almost escaped Cersei’s mouth, but the assassin was prepared and immediately muffled it with her other hand.

“It’s no use, Cersei,” she said, her voice low with anticipation as she sat down on a chair next to the woman, “you’ve dismissed all your guards.”

Arya smiled at the fear in the woman’s eyes, and let go her mouth when she felt her stop trying to scream. “Your guards are gone, your servants don’t want to be near you, your brother has left you… You’re all alone.”

Despite the fear, there still seemed to be some fight left in the woman when anger suddenly burned through at those words.

“Who… are you,” the Lannister spat out venomously.

“Ah, an excellent question, Your Grace,” Arya answered, leaning back in her seat as she brought her fingers to her face to pull away the mask.

“I’m the one that got away,” she said, keeping their eyes locked as she pulled away the face she was wearing, to see a myriad of emotions pass across the other woman’s face.

Anger.

Disgust.

Fear.

Realisation.

“No… Impossible…” Arya kept grinning, her arms crossed as waited for the Queen to reach her conclusion. “It can’t be… You were just a little girl… You shouldn’t have survived.”

“But I have,” the girl said, leaning forward a bit, her posture the complete opposite of the winebearer she had been playing earlier, “funny how things work out, aren’t they?”

She leaned even closer to Cersei, her grey eyes dark and menacing as they locked with the fearful ones in front of her. “Arya Stark, the girl you desperately tried to capture, has finally come to you willingly…”

Arya laughed, humourlessly, but now her situation was clear to her, the Lannister clearly didn’t feel like laughing.

“What is it you want, girl? Is it gold? I can give you gold. Lands? A castle? I can give you anything, everything you want!”

“Can you give me my father back?” the humour had left the Stark girl’s face now and was replaced by a seething rage, “or my mother? Or my brothers? Can you give back Bran’s legs? Or my sister and mine’s childhood? CAN YOU GIVE ME MY BACK MY FAMILY?!”

As she spoke, she pushed Needle deeper and deeper into Cersei’s leg. The Queen’s words were now turned to whimpers, her eyes tearing up with pain and fear.

Arya released her sword and stood up, towering over the woman .

“I didn’t think so,” she said, grabbing the dagger she had hidden in her boot.

“Please,” Cersei groaned, her hands weakly coming up to defend herself, but the assassin quickly pushed them away. “I can’t die… Not right now…”

The Stark girl shook her head and grabbed the other woman by the hair, pulling her head back to reveal her neck.

“You wouldn’t have to, if you had just held your word and joined the alliance needed to defeat the White Walkers. But you didn’t… You insisted to continue your stupid game of thrones.”

She watched as the words slowly slipped into the woman’s brain, possibly creating an inkling of hope that she might still talk her way out of this.

Before the Lannister could formulate a response, though, Arya slit her throat in one quick move.

“No, no more, Cersei…” She watched the light fade out of the woman’s eyes as blood began to stream down her dress, “It’s game over for you.”

* * *

 

The snow was muddled with footsteps and blood as for as the eye could see. Hundreds of soldiers, both on foot and on horseback, tried to make their way back to Winterfell as fast as they could.

It had been a few weeks since the fighting started; they had attempted to keep the Night King and his army north of the Wall at first, and for a number of days the army of the living succeeded.

Drogon and Rhaegal were able to keep Viserion busy most of the time, and with the height advantage the Wall gave them they could use oil and fire to keep them away.

But after a while their defenses – and the Wall – had begun to crumble, forcing the army of Northerners away from the Wall to take stand at the edge of the forest a bit further south.

Heavy defeats there forced them to back away even more. And more.

For weeks now they had fought, retreated a few kilometers, taken another stand, retreated again and so on.

Over half of the soldiers they started out with were either dead or horribly injured. The ones that were left were tired and demotivated from all the defeats.

This was why Jon and Daenerys had ordered the retreat that day.

Their final retreat to Winterfell.

The two Targaryens and Sansa rode on horseback among the soldiers, hurrying to get back home.

Every once and a while, Daenerys looked up to make sure her dragons were alright.

“I understand your concerns, Your Grace, but there’s no time to worry about them. Worry about yourself first.”

Jon’s voice was hoarse and sounded as beat-down as he looked; the last few weeks had taken a toll on all of them .

The Queen sighed. “They’re my children, Jon, I will always worry about them… And since you wouldn’t let me fly them anymore-“

She knew it was wrong of her to start this discussion again now, when they were running for their lives, but she couldn’t help it; the war had worn her down too.

Jon’s frustration was apparent in his face, but before he could respond Sansa answered in his place.

“You know that was too dangerous, Your Grace. Their fights with Viserion became more dangerous every day. It’s a miracle they haven’t killed each other yet, but if you had been on one of their backs, they would most certainly have killed you… It would probably have been safest if you had gone back to Winterfell sooner.”

Daenerys arched her eyebrows at the last words. “You’re one to talk, lady Sansa.”

“I…”, the girl looked down at her horse, frowning, “I couldn’t just stay there and do nothing… I had to help.”

“As did I.”

The women looked at each other, fiercely, but after a moment they both nodded.

The past few weeks they had come to realize they were more alike than they thought: neither of them could fight in the war, but both wanted to do whatever they could to help.

So they found each other with the wounded, both used by now to bloody wounds, both steady hands when it came to sowing and bandaging.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Their moment was broken by Jon, who spurred his horse on even more.

His eyes were hard as he stared in front of them.

 “None of that matters. We came back to Winterfell to take our last stand, but it seems even that will be taken away from us.”

The two women frowned at the words, and followed his gaze. In the distance they could see the towers of Winterfell, only a few miles away.

But closer, right ahead of them, they saw red and gold soldiers, bearing the lion-banner, riding and running towards them, their swords held high.

The three held their horses, and the men around them stopped as well.

After a moment of looking on in shock and fear, Jon sighed and unsheathed his sword.

“I suppose this is it… Our last stand…”

He brought his horse in front of the two women, prepared to protect them for as long as he could.

The Lannister soldiers spurred their horses on more and more, it was mere moments before they reached them.

Jon clenched his sword harder, preparing to swing.

But his swing never landed.

The red-and-gold soldiers rode past them, past the tired and wounded Northerners, and went straight for the walkers that were following them.

Thousands of men passed the baffled Northerners, pushing back the army of the dead, giving the soldiers more time to get back to Winterfell.

It took them all a time to recover, though. It was only when the last line of soldiers had passed them that Daenerys felt she could breathe again.

“What just happened?”

* * *

 

Their question was quickly answered when they reached Winterfell. In front of the castle, on the hill overlooking the battlements, they found the lion banners, and Cersei Lannister below them.

The three rode up to her the moment they spotted her, disbelief and distrust plastered on their faces.

“My allies. Glad to see you’re doing well.” The misplaced smile on the woman’s face did not make them trust her any more.

Both Daenerys and Jon looked like fish, gasping for air, trying to make sense of the situation. Sansa only frowned, though, unsure but hopeful.

Before any of them could speak, Cersei continued.

“I do apologize for be so late,” she looked out across the battlefield in the distance, and the hordes of tired and wounded soldiers nearby, seemingly impressed, “I had hoped I would still be in time, and it seems I am.”

“Barely.” They all looked up to see that Tyrion and Jaime Lannister had arrived to join them. “Although I must say, dear sister,” Tyrion continued, “that to me it seems a miracle that you arrived at all.”

The distrust was clear in his voice, and even Jaime seemed uncertain of what to think of this situation.

It was clear that everyone around her – bar Sansa, perhaps – was trying to figure out how her actions could fall into a larger, evil scheme.

The tense moment was broken when a Lannister commander rode up to them.

“Your Grace,” he addressed Cersei, “we were able to push them back. It seems they are now gathering at the edge of the forest. We assume they intend to regroup and attack us once all of them are here.”

Cersei nodded. “Casualties?” She asked, trying to ignore the curious looks the others were still throwing her way.

“Yes, Your Grace, many were shocked when they went up against those creatures… Most of the first line were taken over quickly.”

The Lannister Queen nodded. “Burn the bodies, the ones you still can. Then ask lord Snow here for instructions.” The surprise was clear in Jon’s face. “The Northerners have been fighting these things for weeks, if this is to be our last stand, they _must_ have a plan.

For a moment he was silent, but then Jon began to nod to himself, as though he decided to forgo his feelings of distrust and simply use the means he was given.

“I do, now that we have your men, at least.” He looked up and around the group. “Our last stand?”

Daenerys glanced at him, seeing hope in his eyes for the first time in weeks, then looked back at the woman that had brought him that hope.

Cersei Lannister looked exactly as she remembered from months ago, when she had given them her word. The word they knew she didn’t intend to keep.

She looked exactly the same, but when they locked eyes, Daenerys felt a strange feeling creep up her neck.

The woman looked exactly the same, yet her eyes were different…

And it was that small difference that made Daenerys choose to trust her now.

So she nodded, her head held high.

“Our final battle. It ends tonight.”

* * *

 

It was as they had expected: the White Walkers took their time to regroup, and waited for nightfall until they attacked.

The army of the living used that time as well, the fire of those tired Northerners rekindled by the arrival of these many soldiers and the hope they brought.

This was the final battle, and everyone around them looked ready to give it their all one last time.

The moment the sun had gone down, blood-curdling screams could be heard, a sign that the army of the dead had begun their attack.

Without hesitation, the living soldiers confronted them, head on.

From their vantage point up the hill, Cersei and Sansa watched the battle, lit up by the light of the moon and the fires that were started by both the dragons and the humans to keep  the dead at bay.

The Lannister looked up every once in a while, watching the dragons.

It had been hours since the fighting had started, the sun was almost coming up again by now, and less than two hours ago Daenerys had decided to join the fight.

They watched her fly over them on Drogon, attempting to both avoid Viserion and attack the backline of Walkers.

Sansa had been silent throughout this, not daring to talk, but when she saw Cersei’s gaze go up for the tenth time, she couldn’t help but comment.

“She’ll be fine, my Lady, Queen Daenerys has done this before.”

“Last time I checked, I was still the Queen.” Cersei answered drily, not taking her eyes off the dragon.

For a moment, Sansa seemed shocked. It was only when the other woman looked over to her and grinned that she sighed to herself.

“You did it… I wasn’t sure…” Sansa whispered, afraid any of the Lannister’s men would hear her.

“I did.” her sister-as-Cersei answered shortly, before looking down sadly. “I’m sorry, though, Sansa… I should have been here sooner, but-“

“No,” the older Stark quickly interrupted, grabbing her companions hand. “There’s no need to apologise Ar-…” She pulled back her hand, trying to compose herself again. “There’s no need to apologise. The fact that you’re here now is more than we could have hoped for… Truly.”

The two smiled at one another, lost in thoughts, when a loud growl suddenly brought them back to reality.

It took them a moment to find the cause of the commotion, but after a while they found it: in the distance they could see that Drogon had been brought down by his dead brother, causing Daenerys to land right next to the Night King.

“NO!” when they noticed that the Night King went straight for the Mother of Dragons, Arya shouted and without thinking spurred her horse on.

She could hear Sansa shouting behind her, but she ignored her and simply rode on, galloping across the battlefield, dodging both enemy and friendly blades.

Daenerys didn’t see her, though. Her eyes were focused on the Night King, stalking closer to her.

She could hear Jon shouting in the distance, but even without looking she knew he would never make it in time.

The Queen looked around her. Drogon, although hurt, had already taken to the sky again, he and Rhaegal now involved in a heated battle with Viserion.

She stood up straight, her head high, and squared her shoulders as the Night King came closer, his icy blade in hand.

She had no dragons to help her now, no weapon, but she refused to run.

As her greatest enemy lifted his spear, Arya Stark’s last words suddenly popped up in her head.

_“And what is it we say to the God of Death?”_

Daenerys frowned, a fire burning in her eyes as he brought his blade down.

She expected to feel the eyes pierce her heart, but instead she was pushed back.

Cersei Lannister suddenly stood in front of her, a slim blade raised to block the ice spear’s blow.

The sword shattered into thin pieces, but Cersei swiftly used the handle to slightly push the blade up, allowing her to duck under it.

“Not today, asshole.”

Daenerys stayed on the ground, flabbergasted, confused by the movements and words of the Lannister Queen.

_Those movements, that sword… Those words…_

“Are you alright, Daenerys?” the other woman asked, glancing behind her quickly.

“You… You’re not Cersei Lannister…” It wasn’t a question, not really.

Smiling oddly, the woman brought her hand to her face, before discarding it on the ground.

“Arya…” Daenerys didn’t know if she should feel happy, or anxious, or sad, or all at once.

In the distance, she could hear Jon shouting the girl’s name as well. Looking to the side, she could see Jaime Lannister, still fighting, but also looking back in shock at the woman wearing his sister’s clothes, and the face that was now lying in the snow.

She wanted to ask a thousand questions. She wanted to stand up and hug the girl because she was safe, or slap her for not telling her about this, but she didn’t get a chance.

The Night King had grabbed his spear again and now came for the girl.

Her Needle broken and useless, Arya switched to the dagger, holding it behind her back in her classic fighting stance.

“Don’t do this, Arya!” Daenerys shouted, watching the small girl next to the menacing Night King, “run, save yourself, he’s too strong!”

Arya stood her ground, though, and merely shrugged. “He may be strong, but this might be our only chance… _Valar morghulis._ ”

And before the Targaryen could say anything else, the Night King swung his blade.

It only missed Arya by a centimeter, but she dodged it, and sidestepped him, attempting to wound him with her dagger.

Her blows hardly had any effect, though, and his moves were so powerful that they made the girl stagger whenever she parried them.

She didn’t give up, though. Every time he swung she ducked under it and tried to cut him.

When he lunged at her, she sidestepped, trying to get his neck.

He tried to go for her legs, she tried for his back.

He went for her neck, she slid across the floor and hacked at his knees.

They went back and forth for what seemed like hours.

Daenerys was hoping that someone, Jon or Brienne or Jaime or anyone would finally be able to break through the mass of White Walkers and help Arya.

But the sun was beginning to rise, and still they went on.

And unlike the Night King, Arya was mortal, so she did get tired.

Her speed went down a bit, and the next slice the Night King made, he cut up her face – a straight line from her cheek over her eye.

“No!”

Arya went down, clutching her bleeding face, and Daenerys suddenly felt fear grip her heart.

She could see a harrowing grin form on the Night King’s face, as he lifted his spear high over his head.

“Arya! NO!”

He brought his icy blade down, but the moment he did, the young wolf jumped to her feet, using the space her enemy finally gave her to get past the spear and plunge her dagger into his chest.

Hard grey eyes met with cold blue ones, and watched as the light faded from them. Before long, Arya could feel the weight around her dagger lessen.

He turned to dust right in front of her, until her dagger was only stabbing air.

Around her, she could see a shockwave ripple through the battlefield. Blade after blade hit air instead of enemies, until the only ones left where the living.

For a moment, everyone simply stood there. Looking at their hands, looking around them, stunned.

Then, realization began to creep in.

It was over.

After weeks of fighting, after months of preparation.

The war was finally over.

A roar of joy went through the battlefield.

Arya, who was still looking at the dagger in her hands, shocked, was broken from her stupor when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

“Arya…” she turned around to be met with fiery violet eyes. “Are you okay?” Daenerys brought her hand to her face, careful not to touch the wound.

The girl nodded, still stunned but enjoying the other woman’s soft touch.

“You…” Daenerys opened and closed her mouth, as if to say something, but quickly shook her head. Instead, she pulled the girl into her arms, hugging her closely. “ _You’re amazing, Arya Stark.. Thank you.”_

Arya blinked a few times, unsure of how to respond, but she didn’t get a chance to; suddenly Jon ran up to them, picked her up and hugged her.

“You did it!” he shouted, tears in his eyes. “You did it, little sister! It’s over! The Night King is dead! We won!”

She hugged him back, the realization of what she had done finally truly hitting her.

Behind him, she could see the sunrise, the first sun they had seen since winter had come.

It lit up the battlefield, shining light on the hundreds of survivors, Lannisters, Dothraki, Northerners and Unsullied, all cheering and laughing.

For the first time in years, no one in Westeros was playing the game of thrones.

* * *

 

Arya touched the wound on her face. The Maester (and Sansa) had tried to bandage all of her face up, but the girl had quickly become fed up with that and had now simply taken it off.

She was standing in her room in Winterfell, looking out the window at the castle grounds below her.

Most of the Northern lords had taken their soldiers home by now, and Jaime and Tyrion Lannister had already left for King’s Landing with the former Lannister army, but there were still many wounded left.

It was different, though, now that the threat in the North was gone.

They had time to heal up, time to gather supplies, hunt for food…

It was refreshing to Arya, to see all these people happy.

It almost made Winterfell feel like home again…

“Didn’t feel like wearing the bandages anymore, I see?”

The girl smiled as Daenerys walked into her room.

“I’m not going to apologise, just so you know.” She said, grinning as the Queen joined her by the window. “They were annoying.”

The older woman shook her head, bringing her hand up to caress the girl’s face.

“Annoyingly trying to help you heal?” When Arya rolled her eyes at those words, she continued. “You should listen to your sister, Arya, this will leave a nasty scar if you don’t treat it right.”

The girl shrugged, trying to ignore the blush from forming as the Queen’s caress dropped from her face to her neck.

“If that happens I can always put on a new face, you know,” she tried to joke.

Daenerys didn’t laugh, though, intense violet eyes locking with soft grey ones as she stepped closer.

“Don’t say that, Arya… I like this face…” she brought both her hands up to cup the girl’s face. “For weeks I was afraid, that after I dropped you off with my dragon… That that was the last time I would ever see your face again… That I’d missed my chance…”

Arya swallowed drily, her heartrate going up.

“Your chance?” she asked, a puzzled look on her face.

The grey-haired woman didn’t answer, though, but only smiled and pulled the girl closer to her.

When their lips met, Arya froze for a second, not knowing what to do, but soon enough she returned the kiss, her hands going up around the older woman’s neck.

When they finally parted for air, the two were panting.

“That was…” the former assassin started, but she wasn’t able to finish her sentence.

This made Daenerys smile. “Well, well, who would have thought a simple kiss could render one of the Faceless Men mute…”

Arya rolled her eyes at that. “Oh, just shut up and kiss me again…” When the response she got was an arched eyebrow, the girl quickly went on. “Shut up and kiss me again, Your Grace?”

The Queen kept an angry look on her face, despite the sweet smile the young wolf was sending her way.

“You think you can order _me_ to shut up? I am Daenerys Targaryen, Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Mother of Dragons-“ she began, in the most pompous way she could muster.

When those grey eyes continued to simply look at her lovingly, she had to drop her act.

Brushing the hair out of the younger woman’s face, she mirrored the loving look and kissed her again.

“For you, Arya Stark… I’ll do anything.”

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea for this story 3 days ago, and really wanted to write this before season 8 began coming out and possibly ruined the characters for me.  
> It's not really my usual style - if I had more time I would have easily turned this into a 30-chapter story.  
> I hope you enjoyed it though, and when season 8 inevitably does nothing I want for my favorite characters, I hope I myself will enjoy reading this again.


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